More than Memory
by lovablegeek
Summary: [Feeling Electric] He can't be real… but he still won't go away. [One shot]


Dan's steps slowed as he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw the light on in the kitchen. Of course, he'd guessed when he woke up and Diana wasn't beside him, but… it was going to be another one of those mornings. And there she was, sitting at the kitchen table, quietly talking to thin air. He sighed and rubbed his forehead before crossing the room and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Did you sleep at all tonight?"

She jumped and looked up at him like she hadn't realized he was there in the first place. Maybe she hadn't. Her eyes flickered for a moment, from Dan to a spot in the air across the room, back to Dan. "No."

"Diana, sweetheart, you need to rest," he told her wearily, and she responded with one of her heartbreakingly sweet smiles.

"Don't worry, Dan Brown. I'm not even tired."

He gave her a tight, strained smile in return and gently took hold of her arm to pull her to her feet. "C'mon, Di. You didn't sleep last night either."

Diana didn't argue, just calmly let Dan pull her up and guide her to the bedroom, wordlessly took the two sleeping pills he gave her. Dan sat at the side of the bed, watching her silently as she fell asleep. He didn't look up for some time, but as he did, he saw a flicker of… something in the doorway out of the corner of his eye, like someone watching from the door and backing out of sight when he looked up.

"Natalie?" he called softly. No one answered.

* * *

The house was quiet, for once without the usual blare of loud music from Natalie's room, and Diana still asleep at almost noon. In the silence, Dan could hear the ticking clock in the kitchen, the tap-tap-tap of rain pelting against the windows, his own heartbeat… and the whispers. It was the whispers that bothered him the most, and he wasn't sure if they were real or imagined. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

As he wandered through the halls, it followed him, a persistent undertone to the rain, quiet and barely audible, like someone talking a couple rooms away. Muffled and indistinct, but there, the voice of a young man Dan had never heard before, but sounded oddly familiar nonetheless.

A single word rang out clearly, with no warning at all. "Dad."

Dan froze, his heart jumping into his throat. He noticed a slight movement at the edge of his field of vision, the sense of someone standing right there, just behind him, but he didn't turn to look.

"You're not real," he said hoarsely. "Go away."

And the whispers cut off abruptly, leaving him to listen to the kitchen clock and the tapping of the rain and his own heartbeat.

* * *

Dan woke to the sound of voices downstairs—one unmistakably Diana's, one… the voice he'd heard the other day, the voice that was so chillingly familiar. He rolled over to look at the clock. Two in the morning. It was too early for this. For a moment he considered staying in bed, closing his eyes once more and going back to sleep, but Diana's voice was rising and sounding more and more frantic, and with it that other voice… He groaned softly and lurched out of bed.

"Who's up at this hour?" he called from the top of the stairs as he started down. He didn't know why he bothered asking, really… Diana's voice followed, murmuring something low and indistinct, and then he reached the bottom of the stairs and she gave him a little smile. Dan frowned at her. "Is everything okay? I heard voices."

_Voices._ Plural. It slipped out before he could think about it, but Diana didn't seem to notice.

"Just me," she said softly. "Talking to myself. 'Cause I'm a little crazy." Dan didn't respond, just watching her in concern, and after a moment she added, "You head on upstairs. I'll be up for sex in a minute."

Dan hesitated. He was used to comments like that from Diana by now, but something still seemed _off_. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"_Go_," Diana said a bit more forcefully, and with a sigh, Dan turned and started back up the stairs.

He stopped dead halfway up. There was someone standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him. He was a little taller than Dan, dirty blond hair slightly unkempt, and he had Diana's eyes. Young, too—fifteen, Dan knew instinctively. Almost sixteen. The boy watched him silently, while Dan stared back, unable to speak, to move…

After a moment he spoke, and of course Dan knew his voice. "Dad, I didn't mean to—"

The voice broke Dan free of his paralysis. He shook his head to clear it, though that didn't make the hallucination disappear. But he couldn't be there, couldn't be seeing this, because he wasn't real. Dan closed his eyes and walked the rest of the way up the stairs, passing through imagination, and memory, and nothing but thin air.


End file.
